@joe_peluso

A blog where Joe tries to make sense of his life by typing out his thoughts.

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Been reading a lot about the accomplishments of people lately. It’s my own fault, as I’m just as addicted to social media as the next person. Also, I know that Facebook & Twitter and all that is, as a friend of mine put it: “just the highlight reel, not behind the scenes.” But, the way I am can’t help but make me a little jealous. And worse, I find that I am very often not happy for those people when I know I should be.

I want so desperately to do something meaningful with my life. I don’t know if that means actually going out and creating or being a part of something great, or if it means appreciating and finding meaning in the things I am already doing with my life. It’s probably a mix of both.

Aside from playing drums, I don’t know what that meaningful undertaking would ever/could ever be. My biggest fear is that I’ll be too chicken shit to ever give it an honest try. Here are some things I think about doing nearly every day:

Playing music professionally

Trying stand-up comedy

Starting a podcast

Writing a script

I have plenty of excuses for not doing any of these things. Some are valid (money constraints), some are not. I get sick of myself for having any excuses, and sicker still for letting them win. I’m not sure if it’s fear or apathy or low self-esteem or what. Again, probably some sick cocktail of all three.

One thing I am horribly afraid of is regret. The reality is that I am 32 years old, I’m not working, I’m about to be broke, and I feel the clock ticking every second of every day. Most will say that 32 is not very old, or give me some “time is a man-made construct” thing. And they’d probably be right. All of my heroes in music or comedy or whatever broke in their 30’s and 40’s, but they also started in their 20’s or earlier. I didn’t start anything in my 20’s. I don’t think I’ve started anything in a long, long time.

How does one get over the embarrassment of their own perceived failures and feel joy for the accomplishments of those they claim to care about? Here are some questions that are going through my mind:

Do I really care about these people in the first place?

Is their “accomplishment” something I would ever be even remotely interested in pursuing?

Is it okay to just not feel happy for them?

I don’t know. Sour grapes maybe. I just need to get my own shit going. Need to find work. Need to find a band. Need to find a place of my own. In more ways than one, apparently.

It seems like any time I feel “fuck you,” I really mean “fuck me.” So, fuck me. And good luck to everyone else. Hope to see you out there someday.